


You Give Me Something to Think About

by NauseousSartre



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, movie theater AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3974683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NauseousSartre/pseuds/NauseousSartre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movie theater employee Carmilla Karnstein trudges into an auditorium and finds more than forgotten popcorn and drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Give Me Something to Think About

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t my first encounter with writing, but it is my first attempt at fan fiction. You’d think fanfic would be easier to write than original shit…yeah, no. This is also my first time writing from this point of view.

You hate your job. You hate your brother even more for dragging you into it. What’s the point of a movie theater that just shows years-old films? Who in their right mind would watch a movie at a theater when there’s the possibility of watching it at home? Then there’s the whole working-till-one-in-the-morning, time that could be spent far more wisely back in your apartment or at a bar.

You huff as you push open the door into the main auditorium open, pretending not to notice the way your combat boots not so subtly stick to the floor. As always, before starting your cleaning routine, you give the theater a quick glance over. Empt—wait. You spot what seems to be the head of a young girl near the front rows. You sigh. You definitely didn’t sign up for this.

“Movie’s over, cupcake.” You deadpan. You’re dignified with a sniffle response.

“Sorry.” The girl wipes her eyes quickly. “I should’ve been prepared for this. I cry every time I watch it.” You pause. This is the main auditorium, which means they were showing…

“Wait, you were crying during _Shrek_? Are you serious?” You can’t help but laugh.

“He finds love and realizes how unfulfilling his life was before he met Fiona! There’s hope for a better life! It shows that there’s someone for everyone!” The girl says, flailing her arms around passionately.

“Uh-huh. Yeah, a few poorly disguised dick jokes bring me to tears, too. You are really in touch with your sensitive side, aren’t you, Sundance?” You smirk.

“That’s not—ugh.” She exhales deeply, trying (and miserably failing) to keep her composure. She glances at your nametag. “Well, _Carmilla_ , just because you apparently have the emotional capacity of a…a…”

“A what, cutie?”

“ _Laura._ ” She says through gritted teeth.

“The emotional capacity of a Laura?” You raise your eyebrows.

“My. Name. Is. Laura. Not that cutie pie cupcake crap.”

You shrug and she scrunches up her face in what you’re sure is an attempt to look angry, but she only succeeds in resembling a toddler pre-tantrum.

“That little bunched up face you make when you’re angry is _hilarious_ , buttercup.”

“Are you deaf?! I just said that my name is _Laura_!” She yells, standing up, and in the process, spilling what seems to be the contents of an entire large bucket of popcorn on the floor. You both stare at the mess in silence for a few moments before she starts flailing about again.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I thought this would be better than using the bucket because if you haven’t noticed, I’m kinda small, so the bigger buckets take up my whole lap and then it doesn’t leave any room for other snacks like my cookies and I can’t watch a movie without cookies. I mean I tried putting cookies in the bucket once but that just made the cookies really greasy and it was a disaster but so is this. Oh my god, I’m really, really sorry!”

“Jesus, creampuff, slow down, you’re going to give me whiplash.” You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I’ll totally help you clean this up.” She says, looking down at her feet in a wounded puppy way, causing you to feel disgustingly guilty even though you hadn’t even snapped at her—though that’s probably because she attempted the Guinness Record for most words spoken in the shortest amount of time.

You sigh and hand her the broom before sinking into a seat.

“I said _help_. Not ‘I’ll do all the work’.” She snips, planting her hands on her hips.

“To be fair, you’re the one that made the mess.” You examine your thumbnail lazily.

Laura huffs and mumbles something along the lines of “fine, you stupid raging bad person”.

You laugh and shake your head, watching as Laura carefully sweeps the popcorn into the dustpan, each movement stiff and appearing to be carefully thought out.

“Why pay to watch a movie here when it’s on TV practically every week?” You ask, eying her closely.

“I wanted to be around people.”

“So call a friend.”

“LaF and Perry had a date night. Kirsch was with his frat bros. And Danny…” Laura frowns and shrugs.

Who’s Danny?

“She’s a friend. I think. We were friends. More, at one point. But it didn’t work out and things are still weird.”

You try not to betray the fact that you _didn’t_ mean to say that out loud. Given that and the fact that you’re trying to hold back a smile because Laura’s at least bi, you feel your face contort into some weird, hopefully unreadable expression.

“Her loss.” You say in what you hope sounds like an offhanded manner.

Laura stops sweeping and rests her chin on the dustpan handle, eyeing you intensely.

“Take a picture, lasts longer.” You sigh.

“You remind me of Shrek.” She says in a serious tone.

“My, my, someone knows how to compliment a girl.”

“Stop being a sarcastic jerk for like, five seconds.” She rolls her eyes. “You know how Shrek compares ogres to onions? Because,” she puffs out her chest, “’onions have layers!’”

“Were you going for an ‘I’m about to hurl’ type sound, because if so, that was spot on, cupcake.”

“Shut up. But seriously. You act all broody and disaffected, but I think that deep down under a few layers, you’re just a big softie.” She grins.

“You’re basing that on what, exactly?”

“I’m good at reading people.” Laura says matter-of-factly. You roll your eyes and stand, taking the broom and dustpan from the tiny girl in front of you.

“Whatever you say, Lauronica Mars.” You sigh as you begin sweeping the area around you.

“I’ve gotta go…” Laura says cautiously, “but I think you need to be reintroduced to _Shrek_ , so…textmesometimeokaybye!” She shoves a little slip of paper in your hand before taking off.

\--

You find yourself laying in bed with the slip of paper in one hand, your phone in the other, after a heated discussion weighing the pros and cons of calling Laura with your black tom, Bagheera. You take a deep breath, giving yourself a mental pep talk—you’re unsure of why you feel the need to do so; you’ve never needed to before—you dial her number. She isn’t picking up and your heart rate begins to speed up. _Shit_. You’re about to give up when she answers.

“What kind of jerk calls at three in the morning?” You make a mental note about how sexy her tired, annoyed voice is…

“The really hot theater employee does.” You smirk.

“Carmilla! Hey! I didn’t think you’d actually call. But I guess I should’ve figured that if you did, it’d be at an ungodly hour.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

A few moments of silence follow.

“I can feel you pouting through the phone, cutie.”

“How did you know I hadn’t fallen back asleep?” She grumbles.

“Because this is you we’re talking about. Pouting is more likely than sleep.”

“Whatever. You’d better have a good reason for calling so early.” She whines.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” You curse the smile that finds itself on your face.

“No, why? Gonna make me clean another theater?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of taking you up on your _Shrek_ marathon offer.” You say cautiously.

“Really? Because you don’t have to, I just needed an excuse to give you my number and—”

“Breathe, sweetheart.” You chuckle. “Tomorrow afternoon sound good?”

“Y-yeah. It sounds great.”

“Text me your address and I’ll be over around two, okay?”

“Yeah, two.” She sounds a little breathless.

“Good night, cutie.”

“Good night, Shrek.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not pleased with it in the slightest, but I know that if I don’t publish it now, I’ll procrastinate on it till the day I die. I know it’s shitty, but feedback, especially constructive criticism, is encouraged. You can talk to me on tumblr at nauseous-sartre.tumblr.com. Thanks for reading!


End file.
